Departure

In many ways I feel that the time I spent in Istanbul was shorn with a pair of dull scissors. It was an incredible city to discover, but the proper way to take in Istanbul would require a slow approach to create the most intuitive observations.

I was not ready to leave Istanbul...the city that crosses two continents. As it turns out, that city was not ready to let me go, either.

Just ten minutes before my plane was scheduled to depart, we were informed that the plane was having some "technical difficulties" and was unsafe to fly. The next plane available to take us to our destination would be in 24 hours. Of course, this news inspired mass hysteria and proportional disappointment. Amidst the frantic shuffle out of the airport (a long and arduous process involving an unending line of furiously confused travelers and one man with one stamp. I will spare you the details.) I have to admit that I fostered some secret smile that I was not yet to return to the place called home.

Disgruntled, but not desolately so, I settled in for a long night on the platonic grey and white tiles of Istanbul's largest airport.

Shortly after I had resigned myself to this dreary conclusion of my Mediterranean travels, we were rounded up and guided onto shuttle buses to take us somewhere for the night. This seemed positive to me--I would rather wait in transit than wait for transit. The shuttle journey took on an ethereal quality as the bright and cheery sights of Istanbul flashed past my window and I sank into a good cd. I wondered where we were going, (it was a 1.5hr bus ride) but was not overly concerned.

On arriving we were ecstatic to find that our destination was a five star hotel on the waterfront.

I walked along the waterfront and allowed myself the space to say  "hoşçakal".


As the sun slipped out of the sky, our company enjoyed food far too extravagant for our budgets, made only so much more delightful by the fact that there would be no bill. That night we fell into the comfort of our pristine rooms, and let ourselves be ushered into a state of dream that knows no geographical boundaries.

My pictures from Rome and Istanbul now seem saturated with colors, tastes, smells, and experiences that   will fill a permanent reservoir of my imagination. On the returning flights I thought to myself that it doesn't necessarily have to be that a new place comes with a new reality...we create our own realities from wherever we stand.

I think that it is possible to be a tourist in familiar places. It takes a greater amount of effort to discover the nuances in the ordinary, but there is beauty in these simple things waiting to be explored.

Even though I have physically returned to a place that I call home, I would like to think that I have found a new color palette with which to visualize my world.